Time Meant Nothing, Never Would Again
by Monopoly
Summary: It's what should've been Harry's 7th year, and the Light side has no hope left. Luckily, Snape is around to save the day. Time travel, ceases to follow canon after HBP. Crazy Snape, smart little kid Harry, sentient wards. Lots of fun awaits inside.
1. Chapter 1

Well, here I am, not writing new chapters for my existing chapter stories. No, I am in fact starting a new chapter story. Because I'm a glutton for punishment, apparently. Anyway, I have nothing else to say here, except that crazy Snape is a lot of fun to write. Also that unlike On The Danger Of Stepping Outside Your Office Door, I actually have some idea of where I'm going with this fic. (Wow, long AN. Sorry. Here's some actual story for you to read.)

Disclaimer: I own a copy of all the books, but not the copyright and/or franchise.

Severus Snape watched the entrance to his home lab warily. The war had escalated to a previously unimagined scale of violence, and it was rapidly becoming clear that Voldemort was going to win. Potter and his little posse had disappeared into the wilderness. Snape knew that they were trying to cut off Voldemort's source of immortality, but it was unlikely to work. One mistake Snape was willing to admit to at this point in his life was that he had screwed up with Potter.

The boy had had potential, and he had antagonized him from the start instead of giving it a chance to blossom.

Of course, it was only a point of reflection now. Snape had taken one too many blows in the head in battle to obsess over little things anymore. If he hadn't been insane before, he certainly was now.

And it was not just because he had gotten into the habit of talking to himself out loud. Really.

"Hmmm." he said to himself while glancing around his fully stocked lab with a critical eye. "I have a lot of volatile potions ingredients here." A banging sound made itself heard from the front of the house. "And it would appear that either the vengeful remnant of the Order or some equally vengeful Death Eaters have come for tea. No," he corrected himself absently as the banging grew in intensity, "actually, I doubt they have come for tea."

Shortly after killing Dumbledore, Snape had abandoned the Death Eaters in an equally spectacular manner, leaving him with no friends and many head injuries.

Snape solemnly filled his best cauldron with water and put it over a recently born flame. He then began throwing everything within reach into it.

"Well," he told himself cheerfully, "one of two things is about to happen, because there are only two things that could logically happen if I throw lots of volatile potions ingredients into a pot of heated water. I will die a quick and fiery death, or something extremely fortuitous will happen, like me getting thrown back into my younger body to change the future for the better."

An extremely bright explosion took the door the Death Eaters had been trying to force open and threw it at their faces with considerable force. If the circumstances had been slightly different, the Death Eaters might have had time to wonder what they had done to make the explosion so angry with them, but since they all died pretty quickly it is a moot point.

Meanwhile, or rather at some point in the past, Snape opened his eyes and realized that something extremely fortuitous had happened.

I'VE GOT NOTHING WITTY TO SAY HERE SO JUST ASSUME THIS IS A LINE BREAK

He was, in fact, still in his house. He was even still in his potions lab.

He looked down at his hands. "Wiggle, wiggle." he narrated as he wiggled his fingers.

They looked thirteen years younger.

No, really. Snape had always determined his age by the wiggle factor of his fingers. It was a Snape family secret, as a matter of fact.

"Hum." he said to himself placidly. "What was I doing thirteen years ago, which is actually right now?" He thought on this for a moment.

"Ah, doesn't matter. What's the last important thing I was thinking about?" He thought on that for a moment, too.

"Oh, right. Potter. Yes, well, I should take care of that, shouldn't I?"

And with that, he turned on his heel and apparated to Privet Drive.

At that moment Albus Dumbledore felt a disturbance in the proverbial force that left him cowering behind his desk for a few moments. He would blow it off as nothing at the time, but years later he would regret not investigating. Oh, would he regret.

Meanwhile, at Privet Drive, Snape stood just outside the wards of Number Four and prepared to enter the yard.

The funny thing about the wards that protected Number Four Privet Drive is that they had been designed to feed off of the love and affection Petunia Dursley felt towards Harry Potter. Since that love was virtually nonexistent—and in fact, the only reason the wards still stood at all was because somewhere deep inside she cared whether little Harry lived or died—the wards were a little starved for affection. Because of this, the wards had attached themselves to Harry himself, and fed off of the love the little guy felt for things like butterflies and rocks that looked like faces.

It was for this reason that when Snape lifted his arms in a hugging position and declared "Oh, I love Harry Potter! I would love to hug him and squeeze him and possibly give him the slightly illogical nickname of George!" the wards collapsed weeping with joy and let him onto the property.

Snape quite happily let himself into the house with some sort of blasting charm that left the front door feeling disgruntled and the wards, which had now partially attached themselves to Snape in a show of affection, feeling a bit of righteous satisfaction.

As it happened, little five-year-old Harry Potter was serving tea to his relatives in the living room. Three quick stupefys from Snape put an end to that, and the forty-ish(on the inside) year old crazy man and five-year-old boy found themselves staring at each other across a room cluttered with wood debris and unconscious bodies.

Little Harry looked at his dead-weight relatives, then at Snape.

"Hullo," the little guy said after a moment's deliberation, "would you like some tea?"


	2. Chapter 2

Here we go, second chapter. It's so exciting to know that I've got a plot and am working it into this story. So, so good.

Disclaimer: I own a copy of all the books, but not the franchise and/or copyright.

The Dursleys of Number Four, Privet Drive were a very normal family.

They were as normal a family as you would find anywhere in England, nay, the world.

Until, that is, they woke up one morning and found a cute little baby on their doorstep.

Of course, like most prejudiced people in the world, the "cute baby" part went right over their heads and they immediately stuck it in a little closet and tried to forget it was there.

The unfortunate thing about babies, of course, is that generally the only time they are quiet is when they are sleeping.

Eventually, of course, they trained the little guy to be quiet most of the time, and had been pretty successful in pretending he didn't exist.

At the current moment, four years after the baby had first appeared, the Dursley family was doing an immensely successful job at pretending that their little nephew(and cousin, in one case) didn't exist, because they didn't think that anything existed.

They were unconscious, you see.

Petunia Dursley was slumped backwards across the arm of a stylish couch, the small and round Dudley Dursley was on his stomach in front of the television, and the big and round Vernon Dursley was on the floor in front of the couch, a position he had achieved by lunging forward just before he was knocked out.

Severus Snape was sitting on Vernon Dursley's well-cushioned back, sipping tea out of a teacup with little flowers on it.

Standing across from him was a scrawny five-year-old boy whose name happened to be Harry Potter.

In the background, the wards hummed a cheery tune.

Harry had gingerly placed the tea tray he had been holding on the floor after serving Snape, and was now watching the older man with open curiosity.

Snape, deciding it was time to get to business, carelessly tossed the half-full teacup over his shoulder and grabbed the nearest colorful object—a battered Etch-A-Sketch that Dudley had been playing with earlier in the day.

Snape rose to his full height and waved the red toy at Harry. "I'm going to take you away from here," he declared, "to a land of magical glee and happiness and better tea than you've ever tasted before."

Harry opened his mouth to say something, but Snape cut him off.

"All you have to do is get this…thing away from me." he waved the toy around a little harder for emphasis, then raised it straight above his head.

It should be noted here that Severus Snape was just short of six feet tall. In other words, he was very tall.

Harry Potter was about three and a half feet tall. In other words, he was very short.

Harry looked Snape up and down appraisingly. After about five minutes of this, Snape decided to prod the kid a bit. "Jump for it, why don't you?"

Harry decided that was a decent idea and jumped at Snape, latching on with his arms and legs at Snape's waist. He then shimmied up Snape's body until he reached the man's chest, at which point he wrapped his arms around the inside of Snape's elbow and pulled.

Snape's arm gave, and Harry gleefully snatched the Etch-A-Sketch out of Snape's hand.

Snape raised an impressed eyebrow as Harry happily fiddled with the knobs of the toy, not bothering to loosen his grip on the older man.

The little climber grinned at Snape. "I'm going to name it Sketchy."

The wards, picking up on the emotion in the room, made little gleeful noises.

"It appears," said Snape, "that you have passed my test."

"Whaddas that mean for me?" Harry asked, preschool charm going full blast.

"Magical world of glee and tea and such." Snape reminded.

Harry cocked his head to one side. "Are you going to kill the Dursleys?"

Snape cocked his head to one side. "Do you want me to kill the Dursleys?"

"I'd like very much to never see them again," Harry admitted, "we don't really get along, you see."

"In that case," Snape said with sudden cheerfulness, "let's be off!"

The last thing anything in the house heard from the strange duo was a frustrated miniature voice whining "But _where_ are we off to?", a much deeper voice declaring imperiously "world of magical glee!", and what seemed to be a chorus of disembodied voices humming "God Save the Queen".

After a walking tour of no less than seven of the world's major cities (while Snape tried to remember what exactly the apparation coordinates to his house were), the minature voice had begun an intellectually stimulating conversation with Sketchy, the deeper voice was having an internal monologue out loud, and the chorus of disembodied voices was humming "On the Road Again".

Back in some giant castley thing in Scotland, Albus Dumbledore noticed that the wards that had been created to protect Harry Potter were stronger than they had ever been. He mistakenly took this as a good sign and continued on with whatever it was he had been doing.

Years later he would regret it. Oh, would he regret.


	3. Chapter 3

By God, this chapter was difficult to write. Writing to a plot is hard. But I like it, and maybe you will too.

Disclaimer: I think you know.

Somewhere in England, there was a house.

This house was sort of run down but not impossible to live in. It was dusty inside and had the air of an old library.

In the living room, a little boy was sitting in the middle of the floor fiddling with the knobs of an Etch-A-Sketch.

There was also an older man piddling about in the kitchen area. Perhaps he was looking for tea.

The air in the house thrummed like a manly chorus humming chromatic scales. This was the wards expressing their happiness.

The house belonged to Severus Snape. It had had its own wards, once, but the wards that had attached themselves to Snape at Number Four Privet Drive in Surrey had booted them out.

They were very possessive, you see. They had attached themselves to Snape and Harry, and had no intention of ever letting go ever, and so there.

Snape flounced into the living room. "The tea!" he announced grandly, holding two steaming cups aloft.

He waited hesitantly for a moment, then scowled when he got no reaction other than the five-year-old in the room reaching up for a cup.

"You know," he glared upwards, "if you're going to make constant noise you could at least be helpful."

The wards made an apologetic noise.

"Now," Snape sniffed imperiously, "The Tea!"

The wards made a noise not unlike one a heavenly choir of angels would make as Jesus descended from above.

"That's more like it." Snape said smugly as he handed Harry a cup and tried to be less alliterative.

Snape situated himself in the floor across from Harry. They sipped their tea in silence for a few moments, just enjoying each other's company. They both thought to themselves, silently, that this was the best company they had enjoyed lately.

Of course, Snape's most recent companions had been murderous Death Eaters (who may or may not have wanted tea as well) and Harry's only companions ever had been the Dursleys and some spiders, but Snape had this inner rule about worrying about details and Harry was too busy being five years old to care, so neither one of them paid that little bit of information any mind.

"Now," Snape said solemnly as the two of them sipped their tea, "that you are in my care, so to speak, we need to discuss some things."

And then Snape told little Harry all about magic ("It's like physics, only without all those pesky laws"), magical government ("Just as bad as muggle government, but with more pesky laws"), and the truth about his parents.

Harry perked up at the first mention of his mother and father. "They were magic, too?"

"Yes indeed," Snape declared in reply, "and they died very noble deaths and whatnot."

Harry blinked innocently at the older man. "And here all those times Uncle Vernon said they were no good drunks who couldn't drive properly, I thought it was a bad thing."

Snape jerked in surprise. "Drunks? Nooo. Well, your dad might have had a drink every now and again, but he wasn't a drunk. No no no, he was just a jerk. Well, mostly. He liked your mum well enough, I guess."

Somewhere up in the Greater Beyond, James Potter huffed indignantly. "I am not a jerk!"

"Quiet, dear. I want to hear what my little Harry's about to say." his wife replied patiently.

Harry beamed from behind his teacup. "Jerk who had a drink every now and again and liked his family" was a pretty big step up from "no good drunkard bum".

"What about my mum?" the little guy questioned eagerly.

"Oh, her?" Snape asked, feigning surprise as he stood up abruptly and disappeared into the kitchen for a moment.

"He'll give the same description of you, you know." James Potter muttered irritably from the Great Beyond.

"Hush!" snapped Lily Potter.

Loud bangs and some scattered cursing came from the direction of the kitchen while Harry squirmed impatiently in the living room and the wards hummed lightly.

"Your mum was only the most beautiful, amazing, and intelligent woman in the entire world. No big thing." Snape said casually as he reappeared with a tray of cheese and crackers. "I mean, we grew up together. We were very good friends."

Lily grinned smugly at her gaping husband. "I think our son is in good hands."

"Is that why I get to live with you now?" Harry's eyes were round with excitement. If learning his father had simply been a jerk instead of a drunk had been grounds for happiness, then hearing this new description of his mother was like learning that lovable scum that had been living on the bottom of your shoe was God incarnate. Harry thought this might be what it felt like to be high.

The wards, trying to live up to their new helpful standard, harmonized the Hallelujah Chorus.

Snape handed the smaller boy a cracker adorned with cheese. "Sort of." Then, utilizing his extreme talent for subtly changing the subject, "It's time you learned about Hogwarts."

Harry sat up a little straighter. "That's the best most amazing magical school in the world, right?"

Snape nodded, impressed. "I see you were paying attention earlier."

He then proceeded to tell Harry all about the four houses of Hogwarts.

"Gryffindor." Snape annunciated clearly.

"Gryffindor." repeated Harry.

"Is full of idiots." said Snape slowly.

"Is full of idiots." said Harry equally slowly.

"Very good," Snape said proudly. "Now, Ravenclaw."

"Ravenclaw."

"Is full of obnoxious smart people."

"Is full of obnoxious smart people." then, doubtfully, "You seem a little biased…"

Snape raised an eyebrow. "Five-year-olds shouldn't know words like biased."

"But—"

"Onward!" snapped Snape, and the wards made a loud "Whop!" sound to accentuate the point.

"Hufflepuff." Snape continued in a calmer tone of voice, giving Harry an expectant look.

"Hufflepuff." Harry echoed, settling back peacefully with his legs tucked under his bottom.

"Is full of quiet unobtrusive people who will rule the world someday."

"Um…Is full of quiet unatrusive people who will rule the world someday?"

"Unobtrusive." Snape corrected imperiously.

"Un-ob-true-sive?"

"Close enough. Now, Slytherin."

"Slytherin." Harry repeated dutifully.

"Slytherin is a magnificent house."

"Slytherin is a stupendous house."

"No," snapped Snape, "Slytherin is a magnificent house."

"But I can't say that word!" protested Harry. "I can say stupendous, and they seem to mean the same thing, so why can't I say one instead of the other?"

There was a tense second where the wards whistled a Western-style duel tune and Snape's crotchety old man glare met Harry's cute little five-year-old pout.

Of course, in the end, the winner was obvious.

"Fine, fine, you can say that Slytherin is a stupendous house. But just this once! I mean it!" Snape glowered at the little person seated on the floor in front of him as though daring him to try it again. "Now, let's move on. Slytherin is also a noble house, full of people with enough cunning and ambition to take over the world a hundred times over. They're smart. They're driven. They're good looking. And—"

"So you were a Slytherin, right?"

"Why yes I was. How could you tell?"

"Oh, um. It was your good looks and intelligence." Harry nodded earnestly and Snape preened for a moment. "So I guess you're going to raise me to be the perfect Slytherin?"

"What?" Snape demanded in surprise. "Oh, no. I'm not going to raise you to be a Slytherin at all."

Harry was obviously confused. "Then what do you expect me to be?"

The wards made anticipatory noises. This was the fate of their little charge's formative years, after all.

"Oh, I had thought it would be obvious." Harry leaned forward eagerly.

"I'm going to raise you up to take over the wizarding world."

Harry's eyes were wide with wonder.

"I'm going to raise you to be a Hufflepuff."


	4. Chapter 4

I feel like this is kind of short, but oh well. I think it's coming along nicely. I want to say a very amazed thank you for all the reviews, C2 communities, favorites and alerts that this story has been subjected to. It's delightfully overwhelming for such a new story!

Disclaimer: The standard one applies. No, really.

Minerva McGonagall was a stern, stately woman.

She was known for being a no-nonsense teacher and administrator in her position at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. She had guided generations of students into illustrious (and not so illustrious) careers. She was, for all intents and purposes, second in command at Hogwarts. She had power, and she wielded it with responsibility that is rare in any society.

Which is a good thing, because the first in command at Hogwarts was Albus Dumbledore, and he was a little barmy.

It was a couple of weeks into the summer break at Hogwarts, and McGonagall was worrying herself over the youngest member of the Hogwarts staff: Severus Snape.

"Albus," she said unhappily at lunch one day, "did Severus happen to tell you why he chose to go home for the summer this year?"

"No, my dear." Dumbledore replied cheerfully. "Perhaps he wanted some time to himself?"

McGonagall frowned. Snape wasn't fooling her—she knew he hated the house he had grown up in, and only kept it because he was too frugal (read: cheap) to buy a new house on his Hogwarts salary. He rarely went there at all, and he hadn't spent more than a week there since he had been a student at Hogwarts himself. It had only been a couple of years since the young man had been released from his stay in Azkaban for being a Death Eater, and he had been prone to bouts of depression lately in what was presumed to be a side-effect of exposure to dementors. McGonagall was, to be honest, a little worried that his depression had turned into something a little more harmful.

"Have you thought to check on him? Perhaps give him a firecall and see how he's doing?"

"I'm sure he's fine, Minerva. He's quite old enough to take care of himself, don't you think?"

Actually, McGonagall did not think so, and immediately made plans to drop in on Spinner's End and make sure her former student was all right.

When she arrived at the house (equipped with her world-famous tea biscuits as a peace offering), she was surprised to hear what could have been…_happy_ noises coming from inside. She made a snap decision to forego knocking and instead let herself in quietly. The sight that met her eyes was one that she would probably never forget, and also one that she would probably never stop giggling at.

In her mind, of course. Minerva McGonagall was a very stately, stern woman, and she did not giggle. Out loud.

Inside the small house, Snape and what looked like a miniature James Potter were, to take words from Snape's mouth, "waging a glorious war on dirt, dust, and grime".

Snape and little James were wearing identical white aprons and were both clutching dust rags and spray bottles of what appeared to be cleaning solution. On their feet, in a manner that would have made Bugs Bunny proud, were attached giant sponges that also happened to be sopping wet and very soapy.

McGonagall stared in open-mouthed disbelief as Snape glided in front of what could only be Harry Potter and punched his dust rag-laden hand into the air. "Tell me, little person, what characteristics are we trying to achieve?"

"Dedication, loyalty, and hard work!" little Harry cheered back, waving his dust rag happily at Snape.

McGonagall knew she had to be hearing things, but she could have sworn there was what sounded like an epic orchestral movie soundtrack translated to men's humming chorus playing in the background.

"That's right," praised Snape, "very good. And do you know what we're going to do now?"

Little Harry beamed. "Take out the oppressive underbelly of the cleaning world and make our way into a bright new future!"

"Yes! And extra points for under the furniture!"

"Extra points for under the furniture!" echoed Harry eagerly.

"Tally ho!"

"Let's kick some dirt bum!" squeaked Harry excitedly, and zoomed off on his sponge skates to eliminate some scum.

"Oooh, I like that one. Kick some dirt bum…" Snape muttered to himself thoughtfully as he turned to tackle the stack of dishes in the kitchen sink, which appeared to be pulsing.

As he turned, he happened to catch sight of McGonagall, who had managed to get her mouth shut but still looked a little stunned.

There was an intensely awkward moment during which the two adults just stared at each other, not unlike the stare a deer and the headlights of a car might share.

In the end, it was Snape who broke the silence. "I suppose you want to know why I've got the spawn of James Potter running about in my house?"

Somewhere in the Great Beyond, James Potter scowled. "Harry is not my _spawn_! He's my son!"

"Hush!" snapped his wife.

"Yes," said McGonagall, "I would rather like to know that." Then, as an afterthought, "I brought tea biscuits."

"Delightful!" gasped Snape.

It was at this point that McGonagall realized that Severus Snape was not the same as he had been two weeks previous.

And she wasn't entirely sure it was a bad thing.


	5. Chapter 5

Ah. Hello. Been a while, hasn't it? I spent a loooong time on this chapter, and while I was dilly-dallying (doing that whole "must graduate, can't fail" thing), you crazy people reviewed the mess out of this story. I am shocked, gratified, and amazed. I hope this new chapter continues to satisfy your crazy Snape, adorable Harry, and singing wards cravings. On another note (in this surprisingly long AN), my good friend pocketnin has drawn possibly the most adorable portrayal of Snape and Harry, together, in the history of man. It isn't scanned yet, but once it is a link to it will appear in my profile, so keep an eye out! (And now, this redonkulously long AN will end, and the story will begin.)

Disclaimer: Oh, you know.

As the sun set over Spinner's End, the three victorious generals of the War on Dirt sat inside and enjoyed some marvelous tea biscuits.

They had spent the day scrubbing, washing, skating around on soapy sponges and beating down anything that tried to rise up and make itself sentient. (that last bit had been a big problem in the kitchen sink) McGonagall had been persuaded by an extremely enthusiastic Harry to stay and help battle the forces of dirt and grime, and she and Snape had tackled the kitchen while Harry took care of the living room. The three of them had done the rest of the house together, and Snape rather hoped that it would be enough to convince McGonagall that Harry was better off with him. After all, he hated having to wipe people's memories.

As a matter of fact, McGonagall was beyond thinking that Harry was better off with Snape and was well into the realm of plotting ways of murdering Dumbledore for leaving him with a neglectful family for four years.

"I told him," she said indignantly over a steaming cup of tea, "repeatedly, that those Dursley's were no good."

Harry nodded in appreciation of fact.

"The question I have for you, though," she said to Snape, "is how you're going to keep up with this lad at Hogwarts during the school year."

Harry blinked at Snape in surprise. "Why would you be at Hogwarts during the school year?"

"He's a professor there." McGonagall said briskly. "Now, Severus—"

"I'm not going to be teaching at Hogwarts this year."

McGonagall put her teacup down. "Excuse me?"

"Instead," Snape said grandly, drawing himself up, "I shall be raising my illustrious charge and doing very important potions research."

"Very important, is it?" McGonagall asked skeptically.

"Very important." Snape agreed. "So important, in fact, that we are going to have to hide ourselves away and have crazy world-wide adventures, never staying in one place for…more than a few…"

Snape might have continued that line of thought if McGonagall hadn't directed a particularly murderous glare at him. He decided it was time to stop dilly-dallying.

"Of course, by world-wide adventures I mean that I'll need your help casting the fidelius charm on my house, and that we'll stay here and have adorable shenanigans."

It was the hopeful smile that got McGonagall. "Oh, very well. But you're forgetting something very important." She turned to Harry, who had been watching their exchange with avid interest. "How do you feel about those plans, Harry?"

Harry gave her his best five-year-old smile. "I'm very good at being illustrious, ma'am!"

McGonagall melted. "Well, I certainly can't argue with that. Severus, do you want to do the wards now?"

Snape nodded, then pointed a stern look at Harry. "Refrain from wandering off, little person."

As Snape and McGonagall went outside to start casting the fidelous, Harry wandered about behind them with the pretense of watching them do magic. Once outside, however, he decided that the inviting patch of mud that was situated down the lane was a more interesting prospect. He briefly put his index finger over his mouth and glanced upwards—warning the wards to be quiet—and started off towards the mud.

He made it about five steps before he ran into an invisible wall and toppled backwards onto his bottom.

Intrigued, Harry extended his arm. Nothing stopped it. He stood up, brushed off the bottom of his pants, took a tentative step forward…and bounced off the once again present invisible wall.

He pondered this new phenomenon for a moment. Perhaps Mr. Snape had done something magical to keep him near the house. Harry glanced back at the house, where the adult in question was busily waving his wand around, completely oblivious to the actions of his young charge.

Harry glanced back at the house, then towards the invisible wall, then back at the house.

Then he stood up and bounced off the wall again. He giggled a bit.

The wards, up until this point, had been making quiet disapproving noises, not unlike the music in a horror movie while the main character is sneaking through the haunted house. When Harry started backing up a few steps and taking the invisible wall at a run (giggling all the while), they decided that it was all in good fun, softened the wall just a little bit more (it was, after all, there because they wanted him to stay safe), and started softly humming a bouncy carnival-esque tune.

Somewhere in the Great Beyond, James Potter looked down on his son in pure bewilderment for a few minutes, then turned to his wife. "You don't think his taking a killing curse to the head caused brain damage, do you?"

Lily Potter simply smiled. "I'm thinking of a boy who, at age eleven, was often found banging his head against walls and giggling delightedly."

James flushed. "I didn't do it _that_ often…"

Back at the house, Snape and McGonagall finished their spellwork and found themselves gazing at, respectively, a slightly run-down house and a muddy patch of ground.

"Well," McGonagall said in obvious satisfaction, "I can't see the house. I assume you can, Severus?"

"Yes, ma'am." Snape replied, too recently out of school to really consider McGonagall an equal rather than an authority figure.

"In that case, I'll be off. Do owl me if you need anything, Severus. I shall be more than happy to bring you anything you need, or even tutor young Mr. Potter?" Snape couldn't help but smile at the hopeful tone her voice took on at the end of her assurance.

"I will. Little person!" He called, finally turning around and realizing what Harry was doing. "Come on, time to go inside." Harry obediently ran to his side.

"Are you leaving now, Ms. McGonagall?" He asked meekly.

McGonagall took a brief pause to clear the sudden moisture from her eyes—darn his adorable piteous look—and gave him a kind smile. "I'm sure I'll be back to visit before long, young man." She took another pause for moisture removal when he flung his arms around her legs and hugged her tightly. "Behave for Severus, now."

As Snape and Harry went inside (possibly to have adorable shenanigans, but mostly because it was getting dark outside and Snape had been hoping to try out his newly cleaned fireplace), McGonagall apparated to Hogsmeade and began a very angry walk to Hogwarts.

Coincidentally, at that exact moment Albus Dumbledore's mortal peril alarm went off, and he cowered for a moment before grabbing the suitcase he always kept packed under his desk and diving through the floo to a hasty vacation in the Bahamas.

By the time he returned, three days later, McGonagall had had significant time to cool down and was no longer in a completely murderous mood. As a result, Dumbledore never realized just how much danger he had been in, and consequently he decided that his mortal peril detector was defective and threw it out.

One day, he would regret that decision. Oh, would he regret.


End file.
